


You Don't Know My Name

by ariesconcepts (orphan_account)



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ariesconcepts
Summary: Uh, I feel kinda silly doin' this,But um, this is the waitress from the coffee house on 39th and LennoxYou know, the one with the braids?Yeah, well I see you on Wednesdays all the timeYou come in every Wednesday on your lunch break, I thinkAnd you always order the special, with the hot chocolateAnd my manager be tripping and stuffTalking bout we gotta use waterBut I always use some milk and cream for youCause I think you're kinda sweet." - Alicia Keys, You Don't Know My Name





	1. You Don't Know My Name

**Author's Note:**

> The coffee shop/modern AU this fandom deserves .... And of course, keeping in trend, we're naming all the chapters after Alicia Keys songs ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here's an edited version of the original fic!

This was _strange._

Maybe it was just early, or maybe he was seeing stuff. Shaolin juggled the coffee and the albums, switching the piping hot coffee to his free hand. He flipped the styrofoam cup around and read the name, mouth moving along with the words. Pretty sure his mama didn’t name him “Pretty Brown Eyes”. He looked up at the cashier, bigheaded and playing dumb. The light skinned boy had already moved on to somebody else, but Shaolin was no fool. As soon as the chick left, fruity smelling drink in hand, Shaolin sauntered right back up to the counter and placed the cup down. 

“You sure this is for me?”

The boy widened his big eyes and looked down. He pretended to study the cup, even checked the list of names he had written eyes. After a minute or so of play confusion, he finally said, “Yeah, man. This yours. Iced latte? Two pumps of caramel and sesame seed bagel for Shaolin.”

“Right. So why my cup don’t say that?”

“Pretty sure I wrote your order on your cup.”

Shaolin checked out the name on the boy’s tag. _Zeke_. He wasn’t no white kid, no mixed mama looking to start shit. He wasn’t gonna call a mana _ger_. Besides, it was probably an honest mistake. If Zeke was dumb as he was pretty (wait …what?), then it made perfect sense. Shao snatched his coffee back, looked Zeke up and down and said, “Whatever. It don’t matter no ways.”

And it didn’t. Shao left, not exactly angry but a little put off. He didn’t think he’d waste a whole five minutes talking about what his name _wasn’t_. He chalked it up to tiredness. It wasn’t normal for people to be awake this early. But Shaolin supposed if Grandmaster Flash wanted to meet his early and if all them white folks had to get to work, then _somebody_ better be up to make the donuts and coffee.

He would’ve forgotten all about it.

Really, he would’ve it pass him by. But it kept happening, again and again, over and over. “Pretty Brown Eyes”, “Mister with the Cute Nose”, “Baby, Call me sometime?” — this was no coincidence. Shaolin could sit there and watch Zeke like a hawk, spell out his name a gazillion times and still he would get something like, “Dark Honey”. Shaolin suspected he was being fucked with.

When one of his cups came back to him with a big red lipstick kiss plastered to the side, Shaolin could not ignore it any longer. Forget the chick standing in front of him. Shaolin nudged her aside, slammed down the cup and gave Zeeke the coldest, hardest stare he could muster. Coffee sloshed from the cup and onto the counter. Zeke furrowed his brows at the mess.

“Is there a problem?” Zeke asked.

“Yeah, there’s a problem, nigga! You!”

“Me?” Zeke put a hand on his chest, looked around and said, “Me? What I do?”

“You keep putting this shit on my cups!” Shaolin pointed to the kiss mark.

“I couldn’t have done that.”

“I _know_ you do it! Every day! All of my cups!”

“I don’t have any red lipstick,” Zeke said, deadpan and serious as a heart attack. Shaolin wanted to smack the flavor out of mouth. The boy licked his lips. Shaolin turned his eyes elsewhere. “Besides,” Zeke continued. “I didn’t kiss your cup yesterday. Yesterday it was “Molasses”, remember?”

Shaolin narrowed his eyes, trying not to let his embarrassment show. “Keep your voice down. And keep that shit off my coffee, you hear me?”

Zeke shrugged. “Maybe if you wasn’t so damn oblivious, I could be putting that shit in your ear. Or on your face.” He said it low so only Shaolin heard.

A wave of excitement and embarrassment went through Shaolin. He face was burning. He tried putting on a tough expression, trying to look unaffected. “Man, just get me another coffee. I’m gonna sit here too and watch you write that shit out. Fool ass nigga. I _could_ get ya ass fired.”

Zeke shrugged, moving away to clean the sticky mess from the counter and then to re-fill Shaolin’s order. Iced latte, two shots of caramel and lots of whipped cream. Shaolin didn’t ask, but Zeke threw in one of those big chocolate chip cookies. Zeke came back to the counter and Shaolin stared him down, not moving an inch as he watched Zeke write something on the styrofoam. The light boy handed him the bag and the cup, a big, fake customer service smile slapped on his face.

“You enjoy your day.”

Shaolin grabbed the cup and rushed out of the shop. He wasn’t gonna sit there with no blush on his face talking to the very motherfucker that put the redness there. He was two blocks away from the temple when he finally worked up the nerve to check the cup. It was a phone number. Written in smooth black Sharpe was a number that Shaolin had good reason to believe was Zeke’s. He huffed, annoyed and tired. His first thought was to march back to the store and make Zeke explain himself. His second thought? Give the kid a chance.

The clock on his phone said it was still morning. He’d give it a couple of hours, give the dude some time to get out of work and then he’d call. Never mind his own fear  
his own anxiety rising through the roof as he thought about hearing Zeke over the phone. If Zeke wanted to play at romance, he could play at romance. 

Shaolin didn’t think he’d lose though.

Around three in the afternoon, after the master had left and he was all alone in the temple, Shaolin took out the phone and dialed the number. The phone rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, my damn ass. Watch give me this number for if you didn’t think I’d use it?”

There was silence on the other end before, “Is that anyway to speak to somebody who likes you?”

“Ion’t care if you don’t like how I speak.”

“Who says I don’t like how you speak?”

More silence but this time from Shaolin. Finally, someone spoke and Shao was surprised to find it wasn’t him. Zeke said, “You know … I wouldn’t have to chase you down and be so bold if you knew what flirtin’ was.”

“Nigga, you can’t really be thinkin’ that complimentin’ my nose count as no flirtin’.”

“Whatchu want then? Music? Love poetry? I got tons of that.”

A jolt of electricity through the phone. “Shut up. You ain’t been writin’ no poetry ‘bout me. You foolish but you ain’t a fool.”

“Says who? _‘Comes in everyday lookin’ like an Adonis/“Damn, baby, we got a dark angel among us,”/ I say take his order and make his drink/Makes me think I wanna call myself his and his only/Sweetheart, sugar, brown eyes, won’t you call me?/Here’s my number/Dial me up when you a second or two/I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.”_

Shaolin was not the type of dude to be shocked silent, but he tried to speak and no words came out. How long had Zeke been sitting on _that?_ How long had those words been there, hovering in his head? _His big, ol’ head. Ain’t nobody teach him about a brush?_ Still, he’s smiling, thinking about hearing them words and moving his fingers through Zeke’s hair.

“What the supposed to mean to me? You jus’ some thirsty boy pinin’ after me. You ain’t even _heard_ of me. I’m the _lady-killin’_ romantic. That sound gay to you?”

“Nigga! I like girls too! That don’t mean I can’t think you fine.” Zeke paused. “I think … I think you real nice-lookin’. You just too blind to see what’s in front of you. If you had the eyes, you’d see I be slippi’ you extra every time you come around. Lil’ more food, bigger cup of coffee. You come in and I risk my paycheck doin’ the most for you.”

“So? That mean I owe you somethin’?” _Niggas the same_ , Shaolin thought. He rubbed at his eyes. Even the ones with pretty faces and nice shit to say got ulterior motives.

“Naw, it don’t mean you owe me shit. I just … I just wanted you to know I liked you and that I do shit for you. You don’t gotta propose.”

“Then whatchu want? A medal? A cookie?”

“I get them for free,” Zeke said, laughing. Shaolin swore his body turned into a lightening rod, hot to the touch and _thrilled_. “But I, uh, wouldn’t mind a date.”

“You mean you did all this weaslin’ and sneakin’ to ask me for a date? Man, that ain’t romantic! That’s jus’ stupid! What if I said no?”

“I don’t think you will. I think you like me too, Mr. Shaolin Fantastic or you would’ve stopped comin’. You like Chinese food?”

Shaolin muttered a confirmation. Why? Why did this kind of shit have to happen to him?

“If you ain’t busy this Friday, you and me … we can go out. Watch a movie, eat some Chinese and then we see what’s gonna happen.”

“What’s gonna happen is I’m gonna hang up on you and you gon’ move on.” Shao didn’t mean it. He already was checking his calendar. “But if you givin’ away free food, I guess I can pity yo’ ass.”

“Yo’ pity is appreciated. Meet me at the AMC ‘round six at night.”

After a lot of huffing and posturing and fake disinterest, Shaolin hung up. A date. He was really going on a date with some dude he met at a coffee shop. He hasn’t watched a lot of movies, but he’s sure that this is how a thousand corny romance plots have started. Shaolin planned to play the role of the suave romancer, bringing flowers and chocolates. He was the damn lady architect, the fucking bitch with the heels and her own company who was missing something. He flopped back onto his couch and rubbed at his face.

What did dudes even _do_ on dates with each other? He figured it was the same as chicks and niggas, but he still couldn’t help but thinking about it. Who would pay at the end of the date? Who got to kiss who?

“Whoa,” he said to himself. How did he go from wondering about money to kissing? Besides, Friday was a whole two days away. Until then he had to throw himself into his works. Mixtapes, helping the Grandmaster with some menial tasks; he had to look out for himself too. 

Shaolin tugged a pair of earphones out of his back pocket, plugged them in and sat back with his music. 

He’d worry about Friday on Friday.


	2. In Common

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drag me for never responding to comments! It may seem like I'm just being an asshole who never replies to your things, but I really do live for comments and every you guys gush!! I die inside and I get so happy! I love all of it ! Thank you for liking and supporting my work!

Too soon Friday came. He stood outside of the AMC, arms exposed to the sun. This heatwave was no joke. Sisters walked around in short shorts and brothers were going topless. Shaolin kept his eyes on his phone, trying not to get caught staring at some of these brothers. He'd be a liar if he said he didn't think they were looking good. His mind slipped a little. What would Zeke look like topless? 

_Skinny,_ he thought, snorting loudly. The boy had no meat on his bones like nobody's been feeding him. Some silly part of his brain said he'd have to start feeding him. Man cannot live off bagels and coffee. In his pocket were a few bills he had gotten from Annie. He didn't want to think about what he did to earn them. He just wanted to have a good time out. Wasn't often cute boys asked him out and he wanted to savor this. 

He checked his phone. 5:54. He didn't have to come so damn early. No use in sitting out here and sweating when Zeke probably changed his mind. For the last few days, Shao had no so secretly been stalking Zeke's Instagram and Twitter feed. The boy sure did get around. Videos of him smoking up with friends, pictures of random places around New York. What made his heart stop and freeze in his chest though was a picture of him and some chick named Mylene. Who the hell was that? Going back deeper and further into his feed were pictures of the two of them kids, pictures of him helping her at a studio and a few shots of them hanging out.

He was jealous. Shaolin wanted to be the one taking cute pictures, going to fancy cafes and talking about nothing. After the sixteenth picture of big spreads and bibles and church organs, Shaolin shut off his phone and vowed to never stalk Zeke _or_ Mylene's feed again. (He broke his vow two minutes later when his phone buzzed. Apparently the two of them were in Manhattan, shopping for new clothes.)

Shao didn't have no new clothes. He had the same old shit from the back of his closet, ironed and pressed out so he could look fly. He looked into the mirror for a long time today, picking out his hair and putting some of those whitening strips on his teeth. He tried doing one of those poses he's always seeing Mylene doing. One shoulder up and a sly look on her face like _she knows_ how good she looks. Shaolin sneered at himself. What sort of ass was he that he was _jealous_ over some chick he never met?

He kept telling himself it didn't matter until Zeke showed up. The kid looked good. He had a face full of smarts and he was wearing some of those clothes he must've bought. Shaolin fought a smile until he couldn't. 

“I thought you were gonna change ya mind on me.”

“And miss watching you smile? Nah, man.”

And course Shaolin smiled, teeth and gums showing and forgetting all about why he was upset in the first place. He straightened out his face (ha!) and turned to Zeke. “So what you taking me to see?”

“It's a surprise! You just gotta come on in and you'll see.”

“Yo' ass will have me watching some corny shit! Naw! Tell me what we seein'.”

Zeke put on a face of mock aggravation. “Just come in, get ya self a little popcorn and you'll see! Why you gotta be so difficult?

“If I weren't difficult, you'd be dragging me to some crazy places. I ain't all that adventurous yet.”

Zeke grunted, pushing the door open his shoulder and holding it open for Shaolin. Shao gave him a funny look as he passed by. Nobody's held doors open for him before. That's that Southern hospitality shit. Pulling out chairs and laying down your jacket type of shit. Shao was no Scarlet O'Hara so what was Zeke wasting all his time like that for?

Inside the theater was buzzing. People milling about, holding drinks and wearing funny costumes. People were actually dressed like samurais and ninjas. Shao could've sworn he saw some guy walk back with a katana. His eyes widened. 

“Yo, what's goin' on here?”

“It's a movie marathon. They're playing a shit ton of kung fu movies. Lot of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan. ' _Fists of Fury_ ' is comin' on first.” 

Zeke said it so nonchalant like it wasn't the hugest thing in world. Shaolin tried to keep his jaw from dropping as he looked at the posters. “You mean they playing all them classics? Even the Black ones?”

“You better thank God I know somebody that work here or your ass wouldn't have been seeing none of it.”

Shaolin turned to look at Zeke. “How you did you know I like all this?”

Zeke gestured to Shao's shirt – Jackie Chan. “I took a wild guess. And it’s not like I don't hear you making all them weird noises in the store. All that _wsh, wsh_ -ing you be doing! It's like you some kind of warrior.”

The two of them walk side by side. Shao can hardly keep his feet on the ground he's so excited. The world was so funny. People you meet for a few moments seem to know you more than the people that supposedly knew you forever. Shaolin felt good just being around Zeke. He had a nice aura or whatever that word was.

And the kid was nice too! Shao was ready to pay for his own drink and snacks but before Shao could even take out his money, Zeke was already paying. Looking at all the candy and chips he piled up, Shao felt a twinge of guilt. Zeke wiped that away too.

“This a date, B. Just let me treat you.”

Shao wasn’t sure what _treating_ was but he wasn’t expecting the lengths Zeke went. They got nice seats on the back which Shao complained a lot about until the movie came on. During the first few films, Shaolin ate most of the popcorn and drained both his and Zeke’s drinks. Save for an off-color comment about the size of Shaolin’s ass, Ezekiel said nothing else. They sat in relative silence, laughing at the jokes and filling their cheeks with snacks. 

The heat on Shaolin’s face reached to fire levels. Zeke had a habit for staring. Several times Shao called him out on it, pointing out that they were supposed to be watching the movie not each other.

“But you can do all those flips and tricks, can’t you?”

And how did he know _that_? “You’ve been chasing after me for a while, huh?”

“I saw you one day, before the coffee shop. Saw you leaping from building to building, flying like a superman. Like an angel.”

Again with the comparisons. Shao sucked in his cheeks, turning attentions back to the screen. They had gotten through half of the next film before light fingers ran up his leg. He ignored it initially. This was nothing. They were just two teenagers, watching a movie and – whoa. Zeke’s hand rested on his thigh, squeezing lightly.

Shao turned his head quick. What? _What!_

“Ion’t know what kind of chicks and niggas you be hanging around with but you mind explaining what you’re doing?” He kept his voice low, hoping that none of the anxiousness he felt was seeping through. 

“Huh?”

If there were awards for playing dumb then there had be one with Zeke’s name on it. Shao looked from his leg to Zeke’s hand and back to the light face. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Just unexpected. Zeke met his eyes, considering him for a moment before moving his hand away. 

Shaolin didn’t realize how cold the theater was until the hand was gone. 

A burst of boldness, of confidence, pushed Shaolin to reach over the seat and grab Zeke’s hand. He got no reaction. _Come on,_ he thought. He waited and waited then gave the hand a squeeze. A few seconds passed before Zeke squeezed back. 

_This is the highlight, the best moment ever_ , Shaolin thought. 

Of course the moment was topped. 

The marathon finished with cheers and a lot whooping from the audience. They were back out in the heat, sweating the minute they reached the heat. Dinner was next. Shaolin was under the assumption that they would head back to Zeke’s place or to the temple to order Chinese. Best case scenario, they’d actually go into a shop and eat at a table. Two kids bubbling over greasy Chinese food and coke, pretending that this wasn’t a date – that was his idea of a good time out.

Zeke had stuffed the two of them into a cab and before he knew it they were in Manhattan. Shaolin wasn’t very fond of Manhattan. He had grown to see the entire city as being one gigantic part. The buildings were tall and the people were fake and over polite. If the white people weren’t wearing suits, they were outfitted in knock-off Black culture. If he had a dollar for every white chick he saw rocking dreads, he’d be a rich man. 

“Man, what you bring me up here for?”

“To eat,” Zeke replied. “I told you we were gonna watch some movies then eat.”

“I ain’t think you were gonna drag me half way around the world. We could’ve ate in the Bronx.” Shaolin looked through the window at all the people walking and talking. Every once in a while, he saw a black or brown face in the great sea of white bodies. He couldn’t hurt the surge of energy he felt looking at them. “How you know what’s up here anyways?”

“A friend of mine is helping me get a job here.”

Shaolin turned slightly. Zeke was staring at his phone. There was no doubt in his mind that this “friend” was Mylene. He frowned. Why was he so upset by her? “You think you gonna like workin’ here in Mayo land?”

“It’s gon’ be boring, but it’s gonna help me get into a good college.”

“College? Damn, you must be smart! I should’ve known when you started speaking poetry to me,” Shaolin said, punching Zeke’s shoulder lightly. Bitterness was wiped away so easy with just a smile. “I gotta start calling you Books!”

Zeke didn’t say nothing. He just smiled and laughed. College? From where Shaolin stood, college was just another waste of money. People like him … they didn’t get no college. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was even smart enough. Did colleges accept dropouts?

There was no time, though, to consider what could and couldn’t be. The cab stopped in front of a small brick building tucked between two others. Shaolin recognized the name. He had seen the restaurant a few times just scrolling through Instagram. Of course there had been tons of glossy pictures of food to pant over. He couldn’t believe he was going to be one of those lucky people now.

Shao tailed after Zeke, a little dumbstruck as Zeke led them through the place and got them settled at a reserved table. 

“A reservation? How you get that?”

“A friend.”

Zeke sure had a lot of friends. Shaolin’s friend group left much to be desired. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that Annie and her lot were being nice to him out of sweetness. He also wasn’t dumb enough to think he wasn’t Zeke’s friend. Nobody that spends weeks torturing somebody via coffee cups is _not_ your friend.

And maybe they were more than friends. This was only their first date. The times he and Zeke spoke before this didn’t real count, did it? What happened right here in the squashed booth mattered. What happened in the movie theater mattered. Shao liked to think that years from now he’d look back to the moment when the boy with the big hair and soft words squeezed his hand. 

They ordered then ate. Well, more accurately, Zeke ordered for them and Shao watched as he ate. His appetite seemed to disappear the minute the food touched the table. It was nice watching Zeke each though. The kid ate like a king, graceless and sloppy. There was nothing pretty about him now with sauce on his cheek and a mouthful of rice. Shao poked at his plate. He didn’t want to move his eyes for one second. Zeke was entrancing even at his messiest. 

Eventually Shaolin did eat. He’s sure he looked foolish just staring. He wasn’t a self-conscious person but somehow it felt like all eyes are were on him. He buried himself into his meal until the plates were clean. The waiter came and cleared them away. Soon it was just the two of them, in a booth, forced to talk. Nerves made Shaolin itch for his phone. He wanted to distract him, play some silly game – anything so he didn’t have to feel like he did right now. He didn’t know how these things worked and if they were any different for dudes. Instinct said make a movie, do something, I don’t know, charming? He waited until Zeke leaned forward to speak to make any decisions.

“So…,” Zeke started.

“You wanna sleep over at my place?”

_Oh._ Zeke moved back again, spine touching the soft cushion of the seat. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Shaolin regretted them. Lady-killing romantic? More like game-less dumbass! He could’ve put himself six feet under and still feel the heat on his face. He was ready to hear Zeke get up, yell or walk out on him. He was so ready for anger or disgust so he wasn’t expecting when Zeke said, 

“Sure.”


	3. No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a million years, she returns with the third chapter! Listen ... You guys are hungry and guess who came with a big plate of Shao x Zeke

“Sure? What yo’ ass mean ‘sure’?”

Shaolin was nearly on his feet, a mixture of excitement and fear burning bright in his belly. He felt like he was walking on air, dancing on clouds. He was sure his face exposed his feelings, showing just how much he wanted Zeke to come over. A boy he had met only a few days ago was coming to the temple, _his_ temple to, to, … what? What did this pretty boy with his dark eyes and head of hair even want with him?

“You asked me if I wanted to come over,” Zeke replied, seemingly unmoved by the situation. Shao couldn’t believe this. Did the kid just not care? Was he pulling niggas home every week? “I gotta call my aunt, tell her where I’m gonna be.”

Shao felt himself nodding, but inside he was still bouncing off the walls. He didn’t think guys could do this. It was strange, right? His mind flashed back to Wednesday. He thought this was just going to be this one thing, one date. How did he get here, having some handsome boy over to his house?

Shaolin wanted so badly to be disconcerted and yet … His heart thumped against his chest like a bird desperate to be freed. Shaolin swallowed the lump in his throat. He bragged a lot about his conquests, but all of those were half-hearted and flimsy compared to this. Shao’s façade of bravado melted away with Zeke. He wished, foolishly, that there was a counter between them. If they could go back to their innocent flirting and allusions to romance, Shao could relax.

But he couldn’t. His big mouth had brought him too far, and he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. So, with shoulders and chin up, he said, “A’ight. Bring a change of clothes.” He hoped he could keep his eyes empty, but the goofy smile on Zeke’s face made the act impossible.

As said, Zeke stepped off to talk to his aunt. There was a short argument over the phone before Zeke agreed to something. Shao asked what was up.

“She just wants me to come back at a reasonable time. Protective, you know?”

Shao didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. He put his hands into his pockets as they walked out of the diner and onto the street. “Can I ask you something?”

A beat of silence from Zeke. Shaolin filled it with, “Why don’t you live with your Mom and Pops?”

Zeke stopped short, tall figure blocking Shao’s path. The boy’s breaths got harder, nervous even. His hands clenched and unclenched. He looked at Shaolin and then away.

“They dead. Shot my mom lookin’ for my dad. Dad got lit up over drugs.” Clench and unclench. Shaolin watched the movement. It was familiar, safe – he did the same thing himself.

“That’s a lot of blood to see.”

“Yeah. Ain’t right to see your parents die. It paints your whole world red.” Zeke sniffled hard, hands still moving in those sharp, jerky clenches.

Shaolin knew all too well about a red world. He knew all about drugs and bloated faces, broken glass and familiar eyes turned glassy. Listening to Zeke made his throat so tight, he didn’t think he’d be able to breathe. He put out short breaths through his nose, sucked in his cheeks.

Shao doesn’t know what comes over him, but reached and took Zeke’s hand in his own. It lasted for just a second, but the contact is good. He never thought he could be an anchor, but Shao kept Zeke steady. The other boy surprised him by leaning into the affection and squeezing his hand. When they broke apart, Shao felt hallow. He swallowed hard and shook his head.

“Let’s stop at this bodega first. I ain’t got nothing in the house.”

“Nothing? What you be eating every day? Air?”

Shaolin sucked his teeth. “We all ain’t got jobs in Manhattan, yellow bone.”

They walk into the store together, playfully shoving each other and joking. The owner looked up only a moment before ignoring them altogether. Shaolin didn’t shop with nobody so it felt awkward to pick up milk, sandwich meat and snacks with Zeke hovering behind him. Shao peeked out the corner of his eye, just catching as Zeke picked up two bags of Utz.

“You like that shit?”

“Shit? You calling Utz shit? Man, you ain’t had nothing.”

Shaolin snorted. “What flavor you pick up anyway?” He studied the front of the bags and cawed, “Ah, man! What you get some boujee flavor like salt and pepper for?”

“It’s called expandin’ your horizons! Not like your nickel-and-dime ass would know nothing about that. You buyin’ that shit or you just standin’ with it?”

Shaolin took his few groceries up front, looking behind him as he said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m buyin’. You can pay for your gourmet, la-de-da chips yaself.”

Shaolin went first, slipping over a few bills before moving aside to let Zeke pay for his. The boy had his own money, of course. Not lots of it, but enough to afford chips and a nice Chinese food place. Shao looked away as the money was exchanged, still a little too prideful to watch somebody pay for anything.

They left like they entered, side by side, and talking loud. Zeke pulled open a bag of chips, already chewing by the time they crossed a few streets. They were waiting on the corner for a light to change when Shao extended his hand.

“Gimme some.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“The magic word is gimme some.”

Zeke laughed, snorting as he poured chips into Shaolin’s light palm. He tried just one of them, but wrinkled up his nose from the taste. “You eat this? Like, for real?”

“Yeah, I eat that for real!”

Shao sucked his teeth. “That’s why your ass so skinny. You be eating these boujee white people snacks. Me? My ass _stay_ fat! Cornbread and collards!”

“What your ass know about some cornbread and collards?” Zeke laughed. “Only thing I’ve seen you eat is a bagel. Well, that and two boxes of pork fried rice.”

They crossed together, talking even as they came to the subway station. Zeke used his Metro Card then passed it over so Shao could go through. Shaolin didn’t say that he had his own. If Zeke wanted to spend his money on him, then he could. The boys stood waiting on the platform for a good five minutes, chomping on chips and wiping their greasy hands on their jeans. When the train came, Zeke took Shaolin’s arm and gently pulled him towards the B-train. Shaolin let himself be tugged. Zeke was good at taking charge, it seemed.

There was no room in the car. All the seats were taken and people were crammed into every corner. Zeke grabbed hold of a pole then onto Shaolin before the train started moving. They stood pressed together, body and breath and heat mixing. Shaolin looked up at the taller boy, sight flashing from dark to light as they went in and out of tunnels. They’re between 79th Street and the 86th when Zeke brought them even closer, lips pressed against Shaolin’s. Shao felt all the air leave his body, eyes shocked wide then settling closed. Zeke’s lips were soft as they looked. Shaolin hoped his weren’t too chapped. The kiss didn’t last for long. It was done by the time they reached 96th. His heart beat fast even still.

People were leaving now. There were two seats in the back, but there was no point. Cathedral Parkway came into view. Off they went again, walking but not talking. Shaolin was still trying to process the feeling of Zeke’s hand against his back, shuffling him down the street and into another subway. This time it would be the 2 train from Central North to Bronx Park East. His body moved on autopilot, brain working to understand the new feelings and the fast pace of New York.

He would’ve been fine if it hadn’t been for the long ride. Train was packed again, pushing them closer and closer. Zeke had one hand on the pole and one to the back of Shaolin’s head. He looked at with those deep brown eyes.

“You want this?” Then lower so just Shaolin heard him ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Words froze in his throat. His eyes kept moving from Zeke’s deep brown to his pouty lips. He was breathless when he replied, “ _Fuck_. Hm, yes.”

They were close from 116th to 149th, mouths moving on their own accord. Zeke’s tongue slipped between his lips. Shaolin thought he might become weak at the knees, but Zeke held him up. That wicked mouth was on his jaw and neck by the time they got to Prospect avenue. Shaolin pushed him away a little, bleary and feeling lightheaded. He’s been kissed before, but never before has a mouth made him feel drunk and high at the same time. Zeke looked at him carefully, asking again before latching onto Shaolin again.

Simpson, Freeman, 174th. The stops went past them like a blur. They were pushed close and pulled apart for only seconds at a time. This was addiction. This was an excitement that Shaolin didn’t have a name for. Zeke let him go, finally, right as they pulled to Bronx Park East. Shaolin’s face felt hot, embarrassed, but not really, about how he let himself go. Somewhere near the back of a train a drunk, old woman cheered.

“Yeah! Love that boy the fuck _up!_ ”

Shaolin turned away. Zeke laughed into his shoulder. Shao wanted that feeling forever. Kissing and then laughing.

Zeke and Shaolin walked the remainder of the way, still holding their bags and each other. It shouldn’t have taken long to get to Zeke’s apartment, but it did. The taller boy kept pulling him into alleys, kissing his cheeks and chin before resuming their walk. Shaolin thought that if Zeke gave him just one more kiss he’d be put into a sugar coma. The boy was just too damn sweet.

They came to the projects, standing nervously among bodegas and corner stores. Zeke brushed a hand against Shao’s face before gesturing for him to wait outside. Shao stood impatiently, tapping his feet and holding his groceries. Zeke came back just before Shaolin got completely restless.

“Where’s your place?”

“I live over there by Cauldwell.”

“You got an address?”

“Not really. I’m, uh, kind of livin’ on my own.”

Zeke didn’t respond to that. He instead followed where Shaolin led. The shorter teen took him down some streets and through some back alleys until they had come to a slim, abandoned building on the corner of Cauldwell and Eagle. Zeke went to reach for the front door, but Shaolin motioned for him to follow him still. They went around the back and through some narrow footpaths. Finally, Shaolin stopped at squat building, equally abandoned but less dirty. The outside was marked with graffiti and broken windows, wood and scrap metal.

Shaolin jiggled the door handle and then opened it. The outside couldn’t prepare anyone for the inside. There was nothing but space. When Shao first found this place, it was worse for wear and rotting. It took a while but he managed to make it homey with some found furniture and string lights. His large collection of comic books, kung fu movies, albums and CDs were displayed proudly through crates and shelves he built himself.

He extended his arms and said, “Home sweet home. Make yaself comfortable. We got drinks, we got loud! We got shit to eat.” Shaolin looked to Zeke and rubbed the back of his head. “What you wanna do?”

Zeke pulled his eyes from his surroundings and settled them on Shaolin. “What I _want_ to do is lay you on that couch and kiss you. What I’m gonna do is beat your ass in some video games if you got ‘em.”

Shaolin breathed hard through his nose. He came close to Zeke and then looked up at the taller boy. “How much you want to do that first thing?”

“More than I ever wanted anything in my life.”

Shao felt hot on his neck and in his belly. He pressed his lips together and gauged Zeke’s reaction. He shrugged then, moving away and saying, “That’s gonna have to wait, pretty boy. I ain’t like your other hoes. I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Seemed ready on the train.”

Shaolin couldn’t deny that. He covered himself by exclaiming, “Whatever, nigga! Come play this game with me. You wanna get your ass kicked in Pac-Man?”

“You ain’t got nothing new? Overwatch? Assassin’s Creed?”

“I’m an old head, my mans. If you _real_ good, I’ll even break out the Galaga.”

Zeke groaned into his hands, but he came to play anyway. He surprised Shao by beating him in a few rounds of Pac-man and of some other oldies. He had a feeling they weren’t going to be playing after Zeke snatched the controller away from him. Zeke stood on his toes to keep the device away from Shao. Shaolin tackled Zeke, sending them flying to the ground. They were laughing until they weren’t, mouths and hands moving faster than their minds.

Shao laid up under Zeke until he couldn’t. His mouth felt glued shut, but he said the words anyway. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Zeke pulled away. “You don’t?”

“Nah, I don’t want this. You nice and all, and them lips ain’t no joke, but …”

Zeke came off of him completely, rolling over so they were side by side. He was quiet, too quiet for Shaolin to read. Last time he turned down sex, something very not good happened. Shaolin swallowed and scratched at this throat.

“You ain’t mad at me, are you?”

Zeke furrowed his brows. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know. People get mad when you don’t give ‘em what they want.”

“Ugly people get made when you don’t give ‘em what they want. You don’t want sex. We ain’t gotta do it. Besides,” Zeke said, rolling to face Shaolin. “You don’t put out on the first date.”

Shaolin chuckled only to hide his rising anxiety. “And you ain’t gonna sneak up on me or nothing like that, right?”

Zeke went quiet again. “Man, what kind of cold ass people you’ve been dealing with?”

Shaolin doesn’t answer. He thought he might cry if he did, and he didn’t want to cry in front of Zeke who he thinks he might really like. He picked himself up from the ground and then the controller. He helped Zeke up to his feet before settling on the couch.

“You wanna kick my ass again or what?”

Understanding that this conversation was over and that they weren’t talking about it anymore, Zeke took up his own controller. He glanced at Shaolin, observing him but saying nothing.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah. Scoot your fat ass over.”

They didn’t speak much after that, but Shaolin didn’t think he had to use words to show what he was feeling – safe, enjoyed and, maybe, a little loved.


End file.
